I am now, officially, a survivor

Yesterday I was at the deli up the street from my house getting a ham and swiss (to split with Nick...my new eat-less plan) and the guy behind the counter started chatting me up. We covered everything from the sledding hill across the street (yes, he said, the kids all come to the deli for hot cocoa) to the chick who flipped her jeep Wrangler last weekend on the ice, causing a huge road closure and lots of commotion in our otherwise quaint neighborhood (she's fine). Then he told me about the deli owner's son and how he's planning to shave his head for a cancer charity benefitting children. He gave me a brochure and pointed to the little jar of money with the kid's picture on it. "I'm a cancer survivor...this is really great," I said. And then I stopped in my tracks. I called myself a survivor?! What's wrong with me? Or what's right with me? Needless to say, the statement surprised me. For one, the fact that I even mentioned my cancer experience to the deli dude (sometimes it's easier to leave it out, you know?) and for two, the fact that I didn't go into my usual song and dance of "I have leukemia, but I'm in a really deep remission, but I still have to take medication for it every day and who knows what's going to happen in the future but right now I feel really, really good...." TMI for a casual encounter, to say the least.

We've had the "when do you call yourself a survivor?" debate on here before and I've always said that I could never quite wrap my head around calling myself a survivor when I'm still being actively treated. It seemed like tempting fate or jumping the gun. It also seems--and here's another embarrassing confession for you--like selling myself short a little. Cancer is still very much a part of my daily life and could be an even bigger part of my future. If I say I'm a survivor, will people assume I've been there, done that and I have no more worries? Will I not get the appropriate amount of sympathy? Well, I've decided I don't really care. It's been over six years since I was diagnosed, I'm in complete remission, I feel great, I look great (minus the extra rolls I'm sporting) and, p.s., I stopped taking my drug for almost a year and the disease didn't come back! I'd say it's high time I start referring to myself as a survivor. Why not? It's a hell of a lot easier than explaining Gleevec. And if the deli man--or anyone else I choose to overshare with--wants to know more, then I can give them the complicated back story full of uncertainties. The way I'm starting to see it is that even if things take a turn for the worse somewhere down the road (God forbid, knock on wood), I am still a survivor now. Do you agree? How do you/would you handle? --Erin

P.S. Half a ham sandwich is not enough food for me. Back to the drawing board.